XXXVI
After hearing Eleven's suggestions, Henry decides to place the photograph on one of the shelves in the room. As he considers exactly which shelving—and, subsequently, which shelf—to put it on, she comments: "That thing you did earlier… using your… logic… to keep the gift… It reminded me of something."
Distracted as he is, Henry lets out a weak 'hm?' Still, it's invitation enough for her to go on: "It reminds me… of a story we read in English class."
"Is that so?" Henry asks, still not looking at her. "What story is that?"
"About a… wolf," Eleven recalls. "And a lamb."
"What an apt comparison, that one." Henry settles, finally, for the center shelving and one of the shelves at medium height. "Here. And if… When we take more photos," he rectifies, "we will place them on this same shelf."
Eleven smiles at his admission. "Okay."
He turns to her. "You were saying?"
Swiftly, he goes to take a seat on the sofa, next to her.
"The lamb is drinking water from the river," Eleven explains, focused now on evoking every detail of the story. "And the wolf… accuses the lamb of dirtying the water. Tells him that he will have to kill him for it.
"But the lamb says that's not possible: he's drinking down…"
"Downstream," Henry helpfully supplies. "And the wolf is upstream."
Eleven nods and goes on: "And the wolf tells him, then, that last year the lamb offended him. And the lamb says that he still hadn't been born then…"
Henry smiles.
"So, the wolf says that it was one of his brothers. And that he wants revenge. And, before the lamb can say anything else… he kills and eats him."
His white teeth resemble those of a predator. Eleven even distinguishes the sharpness of his fangs.
"Oh, La Fontaine," Henry declares. And then, interlacing the fingers of his hands in his lap, his voice is like a purr as he adds: "And pray tell, sweetheart, what could possibly be the moral of this fable?"
Sweetheart.
Eleven tries not to dwell on that word for too long. She focuses instead on her response: "That people who want to do bad things… always find an excuse." Henry shakes his head, and this paints some creases on her forehead. "That's what Miss Johnson told us…"
"I'm not surprised at Miss Johnson's opinion," Henry says, and Eleven knows that it would be pointless to berate him for the dismissive tone he uses to pronounce her teacher's name. "Do you want to hear mine?"
Eleven hesitates. But, of course, she ends up nodding.
"The truth of that fable, Eleven, is that he who wants something badly enough will always, always find a way around any pretext."
She doesn't even stop to measure her words before telling him: "Like you."
Henry's smile does nothing but widen: "Especially me."